Dresses and Derangement (Shikokudarkstar & Charlie_Death)

[Charlie_Death]

Thorben Strand was far from the typical Danish fellow, having been raised and subsequently abandoned in the streets of London, he assimilated to the culture easily. Never allowing poor circumstances get in the way of a means of making a living he had somehow climbed up into the lower ends of the upper class. How he had acquired his estates he never did tell anyone but no one had ever questioned his steady rise to nobility. His past was nothing more than a young boy immigrating with his widowed mother to London and as he reached his teens had been left as she returned to their homeland. He had entirely convinced himself in those early years of abandonment that she had left him on purpose the moment he had the means to sustain himself. His following of etiquette, manners and dress had made sure he found a niche in society and was relatively unbothered. Unless the bothering was of his own inner demons whose voices never seem to cease. Then he would only express the emotion of distress with a resigned sigh and a pinch or two of snuff.

At the present moment, Thorben Strand was going for a casual stroll in the evening. His cravat was neat, top hat, suit and gloves all matching in shades of grey and black. His cane - a rather unnecessary accessory - swung lightly in his hand tapping the pavement lightly with each step, it's top nothing more than a silver ball just large enough to fit in his hand. His clothes were perfectly clean and he had sidestepped every tiny puddle he came across from the light rain earlier. Beneath his hat his hair was neatly parted to the side and oiled into place and his large sideburns that bordered on being full muttonchops were neatly trimmed at the same conservative length as his mustache. He tipped his hat in response to those that greeted him as he passed careful as always to not uproot his hair in any dangerous manner. He never allowed himself to look disheveled, especially in public. As a matter of fact, whenever he was in public he made certain that he fulfilled every obligation of etiquette that arose and done his best to be both dignified and uninteresting in everything he did.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Zachariah Thomas Haly, or Thomas as he liked to be called, was not the type of man that anyone would want to meet. Quite frankly he had clawed his way from the bottom of the depths of society. His mother had once been a servant to the Count, Simon Lalor but had gotten herself pregnant with his bastard child. She had been flung out of the house without a recommendation. None of the aristocracy would have her after the Count had thrown her out and so she had to make a living by resorting to prostitution. It was among the streets that Natalie Haly had her bastard child then years later died of disease. He had only lived with his beloved mother for ten years before she past and had resorted to thievery to keep food in his belly. He often used the other working girls to collect information on some of the aristocrats before stealing from their homes. This arrangement worked for years but it didn't get him off the streets. It wasn't until early into adulthood he came up with an idea. It wasn't conventional but over the years of living with the prostitutes and often seeing more than he should for his tender years, he had learned he prefered a strong male body over a fair lady's. He had heard whispers of others like him but the tales had also told of what could happen should they be caught. Bedlam was only one of the kinder treatments. Mostly prison and death were choices for those who found themselves caught. But Thomas wanted more than that for himself. He knew it was a risk but he decided to make another identity for himself.

Zachariah Thomas Haly used some of his connects to make the identity of Arabella Eve Lamb. From there he dressed into woman's clothing an disguised himself as a middle class lady who offered her services as a female escort for those with the right amount of coin. Of course before going fully public with his services he had to learn to read and write as well as manners befitting a proper lady. It had only taken him a year before business started booming. He shared his profits with the ladies of the street who had helped raise him and used the rest to buy a house and other supplies for his work. It was fairly easy to portray a lady. He had always carried a little extra fat on his chest and usually helped the girls with their make-up. The corset gave him a modest bosom that in some of his more daring ball gowns attracted the attention of many of the male admirer. His adam's apple was never noticed, since some ladies had a more pronounced neck than he did. Etiquette worked in his favor against anyone finding out his real gender and usually he didn't attract enough attention to garner any real scrutiny. At least most of the time. Some of the aristocratic men had intruded his home hoping to buy him. He hated those kind of men. He only had one who had been troublesome enough for Thomas to have to use his underworld connections. It had simple been blackmail to drive him off but due to a stroke of misfortune the gentleman in question had been murdered during a robbery.

Walking down the street dressed as Arabella, Thomas quietly walked down the street. His feet were sore and aching due to the long night escorting Miss Peters to a ball. Her mother had fallen ill and couldn't take her so they had hired Arabella, one of the best escort ladies to attend the ball with her. Thomas had taken Miss Peters home before taking the carriage close to home. He decided to walk some of the way so that when or if asked, the hackney had no idea as to were Arabella Lamb lived. His clients knew where he lived and only word of mouth was how anyone knew how to hire Miss Lamb.

Thomas sometimes missed living on the street. He watched the shadows where he once lived out of the corner of his eye. People were more free with their emotions. He liked that he always knew where he stood with those of the underworld. Now he had to watch of for jealous women, greedy men, and all around backstabbers. He hated the aristocracy with a passion but he could find way to make a living and avoid them. At least like this he was free to talk about the dandies that speckled the Ton. He could flirt with the gentlemen and gossip with the ladies. It wasn't perfect. He wanted a lover like all the woman talked about having but he was far too burned with cynicism. That was of course if you also forgot the fact that he was a man who played the part of a woman. Oh and buggery was illegal. That was a big thing too. Moving to avoid his dress getting in a puddle, Thomas greeted those who greeted him. Otherwise he was happy to ignore everyone like a proper lady should.

 

[Charlie_Death]

To any of the people that Thorben had passed he was just an ordinary gentleman; one of wealth and respect. However, beneath the surface it was different. On the outside he may return the smiles and nods as he passed but on the inside he was cold. He was particular about his dress, about how he composed himself and he didn't allow anything to ever break that. He knew that what people could see was what mattered. If you dressed like a vagrant, you would be viewed and treated as such and he did not allow his image to drop any lower than the perfectly composed gentleman of increasing wealth. A week ago that image was damaged by a man who couldn't watch where his elbows were. Etiquette dictated that one should be careful not to bump into others and it was an important rule that Thorben adhered to religiously. He had been invited to a ball and had been mingling with a few other gentlemen in the smoke room when a man of higher standing than him had taken a step back into him. Startled the man had spun around and singed part of Thorben's coat, dropping ashes onto him. At the time he had apologized and being separated from the ladies, a few others enjoyed a laugh at his inebriated faux pas; the others that also included Thorben. If anyone truly knew him - and no one did - they would have known that his laugh and dismissal was a front and beneath it he was loathing of the man. He had spent two days contemplating what to do and where the man had lived and his servants. Then having waited for him to leave to go to a high end club that catered to the upper class, Thorben had sneaked into his house and hidden. He had no problem with the servants that resided in their quarters and kept himself quiet enough for them to not notice but if anyone had come across him in the house, he wouldn't have hesitated to end their life. As the man returned and headed into his parlor alone, Thorben struck. He had taken a statuette that was on a side table and beaten the man to death, took whatever money he had on him at the time and made off with a few other baubles that could have fit into his pockets. The man wasn't the first that Thorben had killed, in fact he wouldn't have been as wealthy as he was if it wasn't for his disgust of having his facade broken in any way. He had killed many people within "robberies" as the papers put it. How little they knew that it was simply an act excessive vengeance or that it was after perfectly forged signatures had given him the deceased's wealth or business.

It wasn't the murders that he committed against those that rubbed him the wrong way, that splashed water onto his trousers with their carriage that made him dangerous, it was the acts he had began committing that really caught attention; not that anyone had suspected that it was him. He was always careful not to leave any evidence that it was him and his meticulous neatness always ensured that he was clean, well dressed and uninteresting. It was the purpose for his calm stroll that was the only thing off or sinister. Unlike those around him that were heading to shops before they closed, heading to corner clubs for tea or drink, or in the case of those who were on the same path he was on, he was not going to have an ordinary uneventful evening. He touched the brim of his top hat as a gentleman he recognized then pat his inner pocket as he brought his hand down, assuring himself that his blade was still in place.

He turned a corner and headed into the neighborhood where loose women walked, taking men's money as they brought them to their diseased beds. The idea of prostitutes sickened Thorben, not that he ever tried to think as to why it disgusted him so. He walked awhile watching from the corners of his eyes until he spotted a woman alone not too far from an alleyway that lead to an abandoned building. He knew that the building was vacant because he had passed it several times as he prepared for what he was going to do. He lured her alone as he done to the others, a warm smile, charismatic proposition and the promise of being well paid for her services. Once they were alone had had spun her away from him, pulled up a sleeve and slashed her throat with the concealed blade. He had cut deep enough that she couldn't scream and instead gurgled on her own blood. As she stumbled, Thorben pulled out an apron he had hidden on one of his scouting trips and pulled it on as he pulled her back into the shadows. He made quick work on her, tearing her loose clothes from her body and slicing open her abdomen.

As much as Thorben had come to respect and assisted women, it was the prostitutes that always set him off. Whenever he bumped into one and had her call in his direction he felt shivers coarse through him and a desire to just end her life. Before he would simply strangle and beat them to death but he felt that it wasn't fitting for their wretchedness. So now he had invested in blades befitting a surgeon to torture them in their last moments. He paid little attention to the prostitute's head rolling as she lost consciousness from pain and bloodloss. By the time that Thorben had cut out what he had assumed to be her uterus she was already dead. He tossed it into an opening into the sewers and in a last fit of controlled rage pulled out her intestines and left the mangled remains. He discarded the apron sure that he could come and pick it up later when the blood had dried and headed back onto the streets. He had checked to make sure he didn't have any blood on his sleeves (which he had shamelessly pushed up to his elbows), he changed his dirtied gloves to an identical clean pair and headed home.

After he passed two similar alleyways he spotted a woman without an escort who seemed almost out of place. They were still close to the less desirable neighborhoods where prostitutes became common, certainly a neighborhood where a well dressed lady was not expected to wander alone. Thorben knew these streets to not be safe, mostly because he was the one that made them unsafe, and felt compelled to accompany the woman the rest of her walk. He knew she was out of place because she was wearing clothing fitting the middle class rather than those of the lower rungs of society were accustomed wearing. He knew that it was best for him to leave the area without notice to continue his activities but his morals as a gentleman dictated that he be there to protect a woman. He didn't know the woman but seeing her delicately avoid a puddle and stumble, he acted. He removed his top hat and offered a supporting arm to steady her steps.

"My apologies, my lady." He kept his hat pressed to his chest as he offered her a comforting smile. "If you need someone to accompany you, I would gladly help. If not, might I suggest walking closer to the buildings, there are fewer puddles to sully your dress and less likely a careless hackney to splash you." Although he felt compelled to accompany her and prepared to steer her away from his victim, he held in hope that she wave him on his way so that he could relax and bask in the pleasure of ending the life of a diseased harlot.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Thomas Haly sometimes forgot that there was still some good manners in the world. It was mostly uncommon to see someone on his street with them but then again, living so close to those of whom raised him came with that price. He wanted to save them all but some of the prostitutes really did like their jobs and never wanted to go back to what they were doing before. Besides, they got more pay handling men instead of cleaning. Sometimes he didn't blame them but with a killer on the loose, he was more determined than ever to get them off the streets. It didn't matter if they ended up in brothels or as servants, just as long as they got out of harm's way. Looking now at the man before him, he eyed his situation warily. It wasn't often that someone offered something without asking something else in return. So, warily he let the man help him balance for a moment before looking to see if what he said really would be accurate. Of course, the latter he did discreetly and without much thought. "I thank you, kind sir for your offer. I am in no need of your services. My home is not far from here and my brother is waiting for me." Thomas lifted his hand delicately off the older gentleman's arm before giving a small bow in thanks and starting his slow trek home.

When Thomas dressed himself up as Arabella, he was told he was most fetching. His silken black hair naturally had ringlets that he let down when he was dressed as a woman and when he worked at it, his hair stayed beautifully buoyant and flowing. Even if his hair seemed a mess, it somehow bounced back into place perfectly. His fair complexion didn't need much work to make feminine, he subtly accented his natural features with the right amount of cosmetics. It had taken a while to perfect it but it had been worth it. He looked enough like a woman that he could pass but still looked like himself or his 'twin brother'. Besides that other natural attributes like his weight naturally going to his posterior and somewhat to his chest helped out. The garments that the ladies wore also helped since they well covered his legs and accented other areas to the admirers attention. Arabella did indeed have a lot of admirers. Not enough that she was the bell of the ball by any means. Nor would she ever get married to a gentleman of high standing. She was beautiful but poorer. The meant Arabella got a lot of proposals to be bought or used as a mistress. Some even went too far with this and got blackmailed. Not that there were a lot that went that far. There were other beautiful women much more willing. Arabella was just one of many.

Thomas reached his door with a heavy sigh but right before he could go inside and begin to relax he heard a blood-curling scream. Without much thought to his tired body or what he was wearing, he ran down the street and down to the alley where he came upon the distraught woman. Of course it didn't take him long to see the body, nor the blood that seemed to cover the ground. It was splashed across the ground in a thick pool of red. An angry slash had split the poor victim's throat in a facsimile of a smile.

"Go get Thomas!" The woman, obviously the poor soul who had found the body, screeched out. Her voiced seemed to be going ever higher. Apparently even at this level of stress his name was the first to be called for by the ladies who worked the streets. The constable would have to be called as well but not many of the people around White Chapel. So he would send one of his people to get the constable and change his clothing. He hurried back his home, sliding back inside before telling his 'butler'. She was the first woman who had wanted to work for him instead of going back to the street life and probably the only woman who knew his secret. Thomas redressed quickly before running out of his room and back to the body.

He hadn't long to wait before the woman who had found the scene babbled out all of her story. Apparently the girl who had been murdered was working alone instead of keeping in sight of the other women. She had obviously been picked up by a man but no one remembered him or even saw him. Once the Constable came, the matter seemed to be shut down quickly, there wasn't a lot of stir for a dead harlot. Only the fact that there was a murderer about killing a good number of harlots seemed to worry the 'good' people of London. Thomas escorted the working woman home before going back to his own home. At least the scare and shock of seeing the body of one of another in her profession had stirred her to quit. It wasn't as fun when one had the chance of getting killed.

Only once Thomas found himself at home alone did he relax. His body hurt and ached all over. It would be nice to have the day off tomorrow but he had too many mouths to feed. He had too many to support who couldn't work without a new identity. He needed money to pay for them as well as dresses and clothing for himself. A escort had to change with the fashions. It often wasn't something he particularly liked about the job since he was rather fond of all his dresses. Perhaps he was a deviant that the religious people crowed about. He liked the feel of women's clothing. Often he found himself just sitting in his women's underwear and relaxing. He enjoyed it as often as he could but usually without anything perverted in mind. Tonight he had no time for such relaxation. He simply crawled into bed without a piece of clothing at all.
The next day wasn’t much better. He didn’t find the body of one of the girls that he was trying to help off the streets but he did lose another one of the women in his life. His mother’s best friend and the only other parent he had had growing up had been killed by the disease that some of the bastard aristocracy had given her. He had a gotten home from work to receive a letter from the housekeeper of one of the women that he truly loved. She had passed everything that he had given her back to him. He had treated her like a queen as much as he could but there was no amount of money that had been able to prevent her being taken from him earlier. Anger roared through his veins at the loss of her. He had seen to her things as well as he could and arranged for her funeral to happen soon.

Leaving the house that he had given her, he stormed into a tavern and proceeded get himself thoroughly drunk. After a few rounds of fisticuffs with the richer patrons he was cast out onto the street. Mostly this was because even while roaring drunk he seemed to beat the ass of those pompous asses. Not that it took much mind you. They had cushioned lives before some drunken bastard decided to wail blows down upon them. Thomas chortled with glee even as he landed chest first onto the ground before him. He was the pariah of the London society, one of the lowest rungs that you could be before falling off the social ladder. The only reason he didn’t fall fully out of the social spectrum was because of his darling ‘twin sister’. Somehow his alter ego as Arabella won some of the hearts of the ton. Not many mind you; he had a good amount of people who snubbed their noses at him even as her. Thomas needed an outlet for his anger and as himself he could cause as much problems as he wanted. Of course walking home while thoroughly roaring drunk was a bit of problem; especially since he couldn’t seem to walk in a straight line nor seem to keep himself from harassing those of higher birth.

One particular victim of his harassment seemed familiar though in his inebriated brain, he couldn’t place him. Assuming the worst of those who were higher among the London society had been trained into him since birth so he didn’t question his first emotion of hatred. Thomas stumbled heavily into the man before kicking his legs out from under him and making the other fall directly upon his posterior. “This isn’t a sight I seen often.” Thomas sneered at the man, “Never seen a rich gentleman upon the ground before. Can’t sire any bastards or get any of those wretched harlots your diseases from there.” Thomas swayed side to side, his hair moving with him in the strict ponytail that kept his natural ringlets from being out of control. At the moment his errant chest fat was strapped down into flat pectorals. He dressed somewhere between middle and lower class, a parody upon the high society’s views of fashion. He was always making fun of the Ton. What idiotic fools they were.

“Got to be on top to do all those deeds.” He nodded sagely whole changing his accent to match a lower class citizen. “But golly, you all just make me sick.” Of course his stomach had been protesting the large quantities that he had been consuming back at the tavern. It chose that exact moment to spew its contents back upon the unwary victim’s crotch. After embarrassing himself with them both with his inebriated antics, he took off his coat and threw it to the man to clean off the spew. “I’ll see you at dawn, bastard. Oh wait, you high types are too busy looking down on the rest of us to come to a duel. Too bad, no need to have one.” He stomped off before going home to a water closet and a lecture on the perils of being drunk by his ‘butler’.

 

[Charlie_Death]

It was one of those few moments where the noise in Thorben's mind is lowered and he has some room to think. No anger or impulses boiling underneath, his inner demons satisfied with the sacrifice in the alleyway. The night at the corner club was uneventful, no mistakes or breakage of etiquette. It was perhaps the closest thing to happiness the man ever experienced, the was neither angry at someone or filled with disgust. To say he was feeling anything other than satisfied on the mild high of his previous kill would be erroneous. Thorben has never felt many emotions other than anger and an impulse that he was only able to control by adhering to rules of etiquette to an extreme. However, this stillness was only to be short lived. He had planned to go home and possibly finish reading a book he had bought months ago. He hadn't the chance to have his mind clear enough to focus on anything other than his next victim. He had paid the stumbling man no attention, an error he would come to regret when he slammed into him.

Never in all the years he was living in England had he suffered such injustice! Not even when he was abandoned with not a ha'penny to his name had he been tossed to the ground and spoken to as such. The smallest of things set him off and this was the equivalent to a hundred thousand cannons firing upon him. For a moment he could not react but sit in shock at such a blunder but the moment the vagrant suggested that he, Thorben Strand, would lie with some diseased strumpet! The demons roared back to life and his mind clouded over in the ever present storm of his own insanity. He was about to verbally reprimand the drunkard had the other not shocked him once more. Vomiting! In public! And on his impeccable trousers no less! Thorben could not move or speak but sit there trembling. Anger pulsing through his veins like molten metal. The only emotion he ever truly felt, and never to such degrees!

No prostitute nor blunder could cause such a tremendous reaction. Thorben felt his face grow hot, chest tighten as his heart pounded heavily and every muscle in his body tremble with the urge to beat the man to death in the street. If it wasn't for etiquette he probably would. Through the anger he had bitten his lip but had too much adrenaline running through him to even feel it, or register the droplet of blood that trailed down his chin. He shot up to his feet and brushed as much of the vomit off with the rag, humiliated further to just hold the horrid garment of poor fabric quality. It was all beneath him, everything was beneath him. Everything but one thing and that was what was going through his mind. "I am going to murder him."

Thorben rushed home as soon as he could taking alleyways and any road that had the fewest pedestrians. He had not even realized that the coat was still in his hand. He tossed it out and cleaned up. He was tempted to go and find the man that night but he was too flustered, too angry. He needed to get a grip otherwise he may make a mistake and finally be caught by the authorities. The thought of prison wasn't what frightened him, it was the risk of being locked up in Broadmoor. He willed himself to remain home and wait until the morning. It wasn't until later in the evening a couple days later that he discovered where the man lived and had found a way to hide into the house. There were a number of women who seemed to visit the place often. And this was the man who insinuated that he slept with harlots when the hypocrite had them visiting his place often. Or was this a brothel? He had recognized a few of the girls as he made his third pass of the man's residence. One he hasn't seen working the streets for a while and had nearly forgotten about.

Thorben had to wait outside in an alley longer than anyone else to make sure that no one would see him sneak in, but it was worth it. He chose to hide in the man's room and kill him in his own bed. Smother with a pillow and make it clean? Or should he just bash him to death and let someone find him? So many possibilities. Thorben paced the room waiting, looking at the man's belongings to see if there is anything valuable he would really want. However when he opened the wardrobe he immediately shut it feeling a wave of humiliation wash over him. He opened it again slowly to be sure that what he saw was right. Instead of various pants and shirts as what one would expect from a man's wardrobe, there were various gowns of fair quality. Of course there was a couple pieces of male clothing but mostly female.

Was he mistaken? Had he breached etiquette by stowing away into a woman's bed chamber? He shut it quietly and stepped behind the door, the only place he could hide as well as debate on searching other rooms for the vagrant's. However those poor quality clothes of his were unmistakable. Was he married? No woman should be burdened with such husband, or was she as bad as he is? In hearing footsteps approach the room Thorben pulled out a knife from his coat. He would just have to kill him quick and quietly so he can leave before the Missus returns.

As a figure entered the room Thorben pulled out his knife and was about to grab the man from behind, or rather he was if he wasn't shocked again for the second time. He stood stiff in his place behind the door against the wall, knife in hand as a woman walked in ever so eligantly. He had gotten the wrong room! He had breached all etiquette but entering unannounced and introduced into a woman's bed chamber! He tucked the knife behind him and found himself caught as the woman stared back at him. He had only been caught once and had promptly murdered the one who had discovered him over the body, however he found himself frozen. Perhaps it was because he was staring at a woman's attire including unmentionables only moments prior or perhaps it was because this was the same woman he had seen days ago when he was rid the world of another whore.

"Many apologies, madame." Thorben removed his hat and pressed it to his chest. "I seem to have gotten the wrong house. I was expecting a man, or rather... I am expected to meet with..." He stiffened and stared at the window. "I will see myself out." He stepped around her and opened the window with his empty hand before turning around as he tucked his blade away. "I would never, under any circumstances enter a woman's room intentionally. Please, don't notify anyone I was here." He turned away and climbed out the window tipping his had awkwardly at the woman as he dropped down. He was so out of it, mind spinning on his sudden breach of etiquette and the rules he follows that he had not registered anything she had even said and spent a few moments just standing under the streetlight, ignoring the rain that started before slowly walking home letting everything sink in uneasily. He had never screwed up so much and he had left through the window only because he could not be escorted out of the door because he wasn't invited. Yet using the window to exit in the presence of a lady! Such a scandal!

Yet that wasn't the only thing that really struck with him as he made his way home. It was how his heart raced when he was discovered. It was almost exactly like what he felt when that vagrant had humiliated him and for a brief moment he had thought it was the man but instead it was a woman. Now he was sure it was still pounding because of the humiliation he had put upon himself, not of that man. He was still going to kill him, but now he was going to make sure he got the right house. That is, after he figures out how to repair the major breach he had just committed.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Thomas Haly decided to lay low for a couple of days, working often as Arabella to make up for his time spent mourning over his 'second mother'. It wasn't really ideal since he couldn't wear mourning colors and was forced to play the game of gentle lady. His body hurt from wearing the shoes and corsets but he couldn't stop or slow down. He had to get as many of the women as he could off the street. Inside his home, he held classes and gave the women new identities. Most of them, he let come and go as they pleased but the rule was it you wanted money, then you had to get out of prostitution. Oftentimes, his home was full of women learning and hiding themselves from prior cads who had used their bodies. Since it was on the border of the worst part in London, it wasn't expected for manners to happen.

John, his 'butler' was actually one of those women who Thomas had reformed. She had been beaten badly and burned by a sadistic client so there had been no way she could have gone back to life as before or even working as a servant girl. So instead, Thomas had transformed her into a respectable, if not handsome, butler. At first, John, who had been Joan at the time, had not taken well to the role. She rebelled and tried to go back to being a lady of the night. There was however, no way she could have gotten work with all the other available women in the area. Thomas had managed to convince her that being John, however was not without perks. John could go places Joan could not and John was more able to get women to kiss him than Joan had been. Only a few months later, and the name Joan was never uttered again...even in private. For five years, John had manned the doors, and still he did not like Thomas risking himself for the other working ladies of the night. He was the only one who knew who Arabella really was since Thomas's 'second mother' had passed. John didn't approve of his throwing himself into Arabella's work either but quite frankly, he was better doing this than drinking like a louse and puking upon unsuspecting victims. Little did he know, he would meet that man again.

It was a night like many others. Arabella had walked home from work and gone straight back to her room after a proper hello and removal over her heavy overcoats. However once reaching those rooms, Arabella was surprised by a visitor. Thomas would have shot the man in the chest with his gun hidden in his corset, however as Arabella, he didn't have that option. Instead Thomas held his face in the mask of a proper lady, staring at the intruder as he babbled and stumbled through his words. Arabella and Thomas knew this man. Arabella had politely refused his offer for help while Thomas had vomited upon him. Thomas blinked a bit startled as the man left through the window. That would definitely be something he would have to fix so that he could not be intruded on again. With a sigh, he watched the intruder leave before locking the window and shutting the curtains.

No...he supposed he wouldn't be telling anyone about this. Even if he wished to, there was just no way he could invite that much attention into his life. However, that proper gentleman was too much attention anyway. He would have to make sure to keep a tighter security on his home. Privacy was the utmost importance with him breaking so many laws.

Another few days passed before Thomas felt himself being watched or really....Arabella was being watched. Thomas paused, turning his gaze around the streets before finding who was watching him. It was that man again. Thomas wanted to sigh or even threaten the gentleman but he couldn't as Arabella. Instead he turned his head in an obvious show of being affronted by the man's very presence and pointedly ignored him. That however lasted until he felt the man follow him almost all the way home. He was unsure how to handle this. How would a proper lady handle a stalker? Or an admirer? Thomas looked over his shoulder at the man before turning all the way around.

"Can I help you, sir?" Thomas spoke, using Arabella's gentle, husky voice. He stood under his parasol in his blue gown, just coming home from another ball. His feet hurt from all the dancing and his body hurt from the way he had to hold it has a woman. It was probably why he rebelled so thoroughly when he was himself. He got exhausted from all of the rules that women had to follow. Although, following the rule about staying a virgin until he was married hadn't really been a problem. Buggery was illegal. Arabella however was the perfect model of ice cold female. Although...that didn't mean he wasn't curious as to what this man was doing following him. He just had to be careful.

 

[Charlie_Death]

Thorben couldn't comprehend his transgressions. He stood in his entryway, dripping in water silently going over all that had transpired. He was certain he followed the right person, but his anger may have bested him this time as he didn't properly research the house. He never screws up! He mentally went over every rule of etiquette that he knew of to see if there was anything to do to repair the damage he has done. But there was nothing, not in any rule book written or implied that could save him. He had trouble sleeping that night, as any other night when the voices wouldn't leave him alone. They wanted him to go back and to kill the woman as well, yet only a single one, perhaps it really was his own thought, that repeated itself. "Who is she?"

When it clicked that she was the woman that had been nearby when he had murdered that street walker, he sat up in his bed, hands gripping his sheets ready to fling them off in pursuit. There was no way she could know who he was, what he was or what he does, but it was unmistakable that it was her. He rarely forgets a face. Trying to find a connection between the mysterious woman and the drunkard, he tried to fight through the haze of his mind and recall his face. They were similar, almost identical. Were they twins? Surely not husband and wife as he had thought. But if that was the case, why was the wardrobe mixed with both sets of male and female clothing? None of it made sense. Instead, he was going to find out who she was and if she deserved to be slain with whomever that man was to her.

He didn't sleep at all, remaining in bed until the night sky began to brighten with the incoming dawn. He washed up with the cold water set out on the stand before beginning his morning routine: make his bed, lay out each article clothing in order of application, dress, check hair and for any imperfections of image, and a brief breakfast. Rather than taking his time with eating, he rushed himself to be sure that he was at the woman's house before she left. Before leaving he donned his hat, gloves, morning coat and substituted his cane for an umbrella, as the weather was still threatening of rain. He kept to himself and remained in any shadow he could find, watching the house for when she left. Then he would follow her at a distance, ducking into an alley or shop when he felt she was growing suspicious of his presence. This he kept up for a few days, after all, he had to be sure of what he knew.

What he did gather was that although the house was often visited by prostitutes both current and former, the woman did not behave as if she was one of them. Instead she acted with refinement whenever she was in public. She was often walking with other women of better or modest means, keeping them company throughout the day. She solicited no man, was proper in her etiquette and dress, polite and the more he watched, quite handsome. The voices seemed to die down as he watched her stroll by leisurely through a park, parasol shading her well maintained hair. He found himself almost anticipating her routines, trying to catch more than just her back or side glances. What was more important, was that despite her age, she did not appear to behave as if she was married. She was not in a rush to return home, and when she did, she was often accompanied or greeted by the women that congregate at her home.

It should be his luck that he was permitted to be well dressed in a cool but sunny day, following the woman, who's name he has devised to be Ms. Arabella Haly. The man he had originally been in pursuit of was still unnamed and whose affiliation with the lady was still uncertain. He had remained out of the shadows for the most part, feeling a compulsion to set something in motion that was not murderous. He wasn't even upset when she finally took notice and addressed him. Following etiquette, he removed his hat and greeted her with a bow.

"I much apologize, I have been quite rude to have followed you, but you see..." He looked up at her face, trying to determine what her reaction was to his presence. "I couldn't help myself." Keeping his hat pressed to his chest and cane under his arm, he fumbled in his inner pocket of his over coat to pull out a card. It was rather plain with a pressed pattern about the border with calligraphy in the center. He twirled it in his gloved hand before handing it over. The calligraphy simply read, "Thorben Strand."

"My name is Thorben Strand, and although we have become briefly acquainted, I have thoroughly forgotten to introduce myself. For this I am most deeply sorry. I was hoping that I could call on you to apologize for my transgression a few days prior. If you would have me, of course. I would not want to enter a lady's residence without first receiving permission." He cleared his throat and spoke more quietly, "Our previous encounter was entirely a mistake on my part."

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Thomas Haly was honestly a bit shocked. The man was apologizing and hoping to fix the blunder he had made by breaking into his house. Taking the card from the gentleman, he gently turned it to look. So this was Thorben Stand. Blinking a bit, Thomas made himself take in the other man's appearance. This was a man of the middle to upper class and really wouldn't normally be around the area of Thomas's house. As Arabella he waited patiently for the man to finish his points before speaking. When he did speak again it was still in Arabella seductive if a bit unique voice. "I see, it is nice to meet you Mr. Strand. I am Arabella Lamb." Thomas watched the man's face as he politely curtsied moment longer before continuing. "I will have to ask my brother, you understand as he is the head of the household but I do not see fault with your request."

After all the polite nicities were finished. Arabella excused herself before walking home. It was only there inside 'her' room that Thomas felt his body fully relax. The dresses seemed to take over both rooms that he had set asside for both himself and Arabella. Quickly undressing into all but his unmentionables, he started writing at his desk. Mr. Strand would be allowed to call upon his sister with proper chaperon and would be invited to tea.

Letting out a deep sigh Thomas paused in thought of how to excuse his own absence. It was hard being two people with only one body to go around. Most of the time he wished he could share the burden with another person but when he had started as a young man, he had been out on a mission to save the prostitutes. He had also been doing this so he could cleverly flirt with men. There wasn't anything wrong with a lady doing gentle flirtation, after all. Thomas huffed before finally penning that he was regretful that the chaperone would be another. Thomas figured one of the ladies working their way out of prostitution could easily become a chaperone for the meeting. Thomas himself would have to think of a good excuse to not be present. Perhaps he would be hoping that more flirtation would go on without him? Who knows. He would have Arabella slip an excuse as to why he wasn't there. Or John could help him figure it out.

Thomas redressed himself as a man before tying a leather tie to hold back the curls. He was in one of his more respectable outfits tonight and sighed before heading out again. He would have to poke about in the clubs to see if anyone knew anything about this Mr. Strand. Surely there would be rumors. Everyone had at least a few. Thomas would probably need a few of the darker kind if he was going to keep Strand from getting too close to Arabella. After all, no one would see it wrong that he took an interest after he explained about Arabella. It was well known that one Thomas Haly had a very overprotective streak when it came to his sister.

 

[Charlie_Death]

"Of course, Good day." Thorben had to agree with the necessity of a chaperone to their meeting. A lady of course does not meet a gentleman caller without him being acquainted with the men of the house or alone. It was unbecoming. He gave her a smaller, but still quite polite bow before leaving. He wanted to stay and watch the house more but his lingering after a brief conversation and departure would be more than suspicious. He would have to buy his time and wait until he receives confirmation and meet with her brother. As much as he wanted to kill the man, he realized that in being known and wanting to make up for his mistake, has put him much closer to his victim. He didn't want to be connected to his murder and have everything ruined. So he was at the impossible crossroads of letting go of a victim or maintaining good social standing.

When he got home he sat in his study, twirling his cane about as he thought things over. He still very much wanted Thomas dead. He had mistaken the surnames and confirmed that Ms. Lamb was certainly a Miss and not a Missus. He was puzzled when he found that he preferred that she was unwed. Perhaps he did experience attraction to someone, something which was a rare thing for him. He was well known in various clubs as a regular. He often kept to himself but it wasn't uncommon that he mingled with other men. No one ever suspected that he never had a formal education further than the ability to read. He attended balls of those more closer to the upper class, but that was not always the case. After all, he was one of those rags to riches stories that all the beggars wished they could boast. At each ball his etiquette was impeccable, had drawn more than a few ladies' attention, but never pursued or expressed a fondness for any.

The biggest thing those that knew him often debated about was his profession. He did not own a business, factory, trade or even relatives that anyone was familiar. There were arguments when he wasn't around that he was an artist that catered to a few wealthy nobles although no one ever saw him with or near art supplies. Others believe that his family are wealthy but live in another part of England or another country all together. Another was that his lack of pursuing any woman was due to having loved and lost. Another believed he was married and in his wife's death was left a great sum.Someone who knew him speculated that his gentleness with women was due to staying on their good side for new clients as an abortion doctor. His belief was based on watching him get into medical discussions with other doctors and having witnessed him purchase a scalpel once. Yet many of the rumors had nothing to really back it and too many disagreed. The only thing that can be agreed upon was that he kept his private life private, did not enjoy talking about himself, and always followed proper etiquette without complaint.

Harold McKinley, a steel factory owner was possibly the only person that Thorben could count as a friend. The son of an Irish immigrant made a name for himself and had known the man since they were beginning their years of adulthood and before the money. He was the only person that was consistently seen with Thorben on a near daily basis. When he heard that someone was asking around about him, he decided to approach the one doing the asking. His curly hair was kept under check with a brown Cahill top hat and was just slightly more then less dressed. "Did I hear you mention Mr. Strand? He's an old friend of mine." He held out a hand in greeting.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Thomas Haly was rather frustrated at his lack of good information. Everyone had a scandal to their name. So far, the man was as much a loner as Thomas himself was, albeit without the reputation of being a bit of a pariah. It wasn't however until one of the men claimed to be Mr. Strand's friend that he really could perk in interest. Thomas shook the Irish man's hand in greeting. "I'm Thomas Haly. Mr. Strand has taken an interest in my twin sister, Arabella Lamb. I was hoping to find out if he was a good suitor for my sister or if I shall have to drive him off. No offense to your friend, of course."

Thomas looked over the Irishman before learning that this was Harold McKinley, a steel factory owner. Thomas had no issue with the Irish and was very polite with the man as he learned what he could. It would be difficult to get Mr. Strand away from Arabella as the man's friend held him in good regard. As did most of the gentlemen of the club. He was internally frustrated with the lack of scandal and politely slipped away after a few drinks with the Irishman. Tonight was just for information so he didn't get sloshed as he had before. Instead as he walked home, he hummed a merry tune.

He paused as he passed a brothel. There were rumors that this place could cater to the illegal tastes of those who loved buggery but the yard had yet to pin down the truth. Thomas knew it was true and when he had been in his darkest hours, the brothel had offered him great amounts to have him as a whore. Thomas had heard he was pretty for a man. Although when without makeup and many other preparations he did to become Arabella, it was rather obvious he was male. It would have been nice to know the taste and feel of real flesh but he had seen what it had done to his mother. He had seen what it had done to many women out there. There was just no way he would have gone into that business. He shook his head to clear it before wondering back home. Two days time he would allow Mr. Strand into his home. He just hoped that whatever it was that Mr. Strand had been looking for when he broke in was forgotten under the beguiles of Lady Arabella.

Two days following, Arabella was sitting in the front saloon waiting on the gentleman caller. One of the retired prostitutes was sitting with her as a chaperone for the events. The lady in question was dressed as well as Arabella was and was going into the same profession. She was still learning the ropes and Thomas hoped that she would do well enough for herself that she could move from the city back to her home town. There were many among the wealthy that used ladies on the streets and Thomas had warned her of such but as usual...what did a man know about that. A lot more than she thought, that was for sure. Arabella perked at the sound of the door being knocked on. John would handle all the necessities before moving Mr. Strand into the salon. Tea was to be served with light snacks and one of the ladies served them.

"Thank you for responding to my invitation. My brother could not be here today and for that he sends his apologies. Please do have a seat, Mr. Strand." Arabella waved her hand to the other heavy sofa just across from the one she was sitting on.

 

[Charlie_Death]

Harold had decided to stay awhile longer and have a few more drinks. He wasn't afraid to answer any questions about his friend to the stranger, especially after he had mentioned that his emotionally distant friend took an interest in a young lady. "You know, I think you are the first person that ever mentioned that he was the one wanting to do the pursuing. I have had a few express a female relative's interest, but not the other way around. He never seemed interested in anyone besides his own company." He continued to discuss how he was not always within the upper middle class and that he has been steadily increasing in wealth. He didn't know his secret to it, but with his own business rising he had no reason to take interest. He also parted information that he knew that Thorben had no family and had lived on his own since his youth and a topic that he will avoid, even with him.

When Thorben had received the letter, he studied it, trying to get to know anything else about the drunkard. He had good penmanship which meant that he wasn't drunk when he wrote it so that perhaps he wasn't a complete drunkard. However, being sober enough to grant him permission to meet his sister was not enough to forgive him over his mistakes. He couldn't get the smell fully out of the trousers when he washed it. He hid the letter and decided that it was best to keep a distance until then. When he met with his friend Harold, he was more than open about sharing that the brother was asking about him. He was more pleased and debating a second chance when he heard that he didn't drink himself into a stupor and was presentable.

After the two days, Thorben arrived at the house by carriage, leaving his calling card with the gentleman that had greeted him when he entered. He was well dressed in a lighter shade of tan than his morning coat, which he left with his hat in the care of John. Seeing him in the home made him question more about why someone who seems well off enough to hire such help be living so close to the slums where whores took to the streets. Thorben gave the ladies a light bow before taking the seat he was offered.

"Greetings, Ladies. Miss Lamb," Thorben smiled as he looked in her direction. "As lovely as ever, as is your lovely chaperone, I do not believe we have been acquainted." He felt his mouth twitch when he looked at the second woman's face. He has seen her before, he knew it. He could have sworn she was one of the prostitutes that worked at one of the brothels, but she was too refined and well dressed to be a courtesan.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Thomas knew the look on the man's face. Although the man was trying to hide it, Thomas could see that he had seen the woman beside him before. So Thomas did what he did best as Arabella, redirected. "Thank you, Mr. Strand. Your manners are impeccable as always. This is Miss Lawford, a dear friend of mine." It was a bit of a stretch since the woman, Stella had just gotten a new last name that wasn't 'dirtied' by her time as a prostitute. Of course 'Miss' Lawford would have to become a missus sometime soon since there was a babe to be on the way in a few months time. It was one of the many reasons that the woman had chosen to get out of her old profession, claiming there was no way she could raise a babe in that place. Tea was served as another one of the graduates from Thomas's hidden school was learning all the proper ways to be a house servant again. Thomas caught the man looking at her and blinked.

"I apologize if some my servant staff is a bit under par. My brother allows new servants into our home often as he feels our staff can teach them well without some of the high pressure other houses put upon them. My brother is a bit unusual in his manner, I hope that does not offend." Arabella was nothing if not a proper lady. Thomas moved delicately as always when he was dressed as her. It was amazing the differences that men and women had to be. Really though, he didn't mind the acting of it all and he was rather enjoying the attention that Mr. Strand was giving Arabella. This was nothing new, however. He always enjoyed when suitors came after Arabella and was always regretful that he had to chase them off. There was too much at stake for another person to be introduced into the mix. The school was running smoothly and with the donations a lot of the helped prostitutes put back in, he could almost retire Miss Arabella but quite frankly, it was all too fun to watch the men dance and flush over him.

Arabella was a patient woman. If nothing else, Thomas always felt like a great predator when he put on his dress. It always amazed him how crafty women were. Of course while listening to Mr. Strand speak it was interesting to watch the other man and gauge what he was thinking. The man was good, Thomas could only guess some of the time where the man's thoughts were going. Thomas decided though at a pause to gently try and find out some of what the general crowd didn't know. Like a job. It rather bothered him that no one knew just what the man did. Laying his delicately gloved hands over his lap, Thomas made Arabella look just as posed as always before going in for the attack. "So, Mr. Strand. I admit I am curious. What is your profession. You seem like a man of many talents and I must admit it struck my curiosity to hear that not many people know."

 

[Charlie_Death]

Thorben was struck by the sudden, direct question on his profession. He hadn't expected that she would come forward and ask him, so few really do. He knew of all the rumors the circulated because of his refusal to discuss it with others. One cannot say that he gets his money from robbing the dead or fabricating ledgers. He masked his thoughts by taking a sip of the tea to buy him time to answer. When he lowered the cup he let out a small laugh.

"I take it you've been talking to people. I make a modest means doing some commission work and private trade, nothing interesting. Now you, however..." Thorben leaned forward a bit and gave Arabella a small smile. "For such a refined woman, I was more than impressed to see that you have made quite the name for yourself and established your own business. I would have taken you for one whom mastered the womanly arts rather than be employed. It is also a relief, a woman of your beauty and caliber should never enter a factory." His smile widened more to show off his teeth before he took another drink of his tea.

He felt a little rude for putting all his attention on Arabella and ignoring her chaperone but he couldn't take his eyes off of her. The way her hair was, the tightness of her corset, the color of her eyes... she was utterly distracting. He had so little interest in the fairer sex that he sometimes questioned if he would ever find someone that held his interest. Yet here she sat in front of him as if the world was mocking his resolution to remain alone. If only because she is the only one that made him feel something that seemed genuine, he wanted to even more to court her with the intentions of making her his wife.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Thomas could see that Arabella had worked her magic on this man too. However, almost no one had been quite so...worshipful. It was strange the gazes that Thorben would make often. Not that Thomas minded, actually he was feeling rather turned on but not enough that would go through all of the measures he took when he became Arabella. Ladies, after all wore a lot of clothing. Arabella was definitely a refined lady and while he couldn't show the pleasure on his face, he supposed he could let the man court Arabella a little longer.

"Private trade? That does sound rather exciting. Much more interesting than my business." Arabella listened to the man before smiling a little, "I suppose it's fair to tell you since rumors are the same but my brother and I are also from a humble upbringing." Thomas took a sip of tea in pause, "It really isn't too much of a secret but, my brother and I were twins born of a servant woman. The lord's wife adopted me for a while for amusement before they passed. The inheritance went to the couple's real children and I was left to my brother. I was lucky, I suppose. My brother was making a modest means before I opened up and started my business. It is often that a lady wants a chaperone that isn't family to go to events. I chaperone without scaring away potential suitors. And I must admit I do enjoy the luxury of being a true lady while helping out my brother."

Arabella paused a moment before continuing, "I do apologize. I love my work and sometimes it shows. Actually, while I asked a few questions about you, it was my brother Thomas that was more through. He told me some of what he learned." Arabella sipped her tea delicately. It was most interesting that Thorben watched every little movement. Really, Thomas felt like a great seductress when the man was looking at him like that. He must be a deviant to get such pleasure from such a thing. Perhaps he was like all those stuffy priests raved about and was something to be sent to hell but he doubted it.

 

[Charlie_Death]

Thorben listened intently to the woman as she addressed their rumors. His friend had told him that there was a man asking around the clubs about him. He didn't have to ask for a name to know it was her brother, Thomas. As much as he hated having people draw attention to him or that some accurately recall some of his past, he wasn't upset that Arabella knew. Thomas on the other hand, knew too much and was walking a dangerous line in asking around. He didn't want anyone getting too close to the truth on how he earned his living or his 'activities'.

"Private trade isn't as interesting as it sounds." Thorben confessed. "I get a hold of a few items and sell it to those interested. No shipments, no shops. You're the only one to come up with such an escort service which is very intuitive. One isn't expected to find such... ingenuity in the fairer sex. A service that no doubt offers additional safety for young women in such dire times." Thorben smiled again before taking another sip and helping himself to a small plate of lemon bread. "There is no need to apologize for loving your work. I have been to many balls and gatherings, meeting many women and not one. Not. One. Has demonstrated such an enthusiastic passion for her interests as you have. For that, you have my utmost admiration." He took a small bite of the bread, never breaking eye contact.

Listening to her talk was much easier than stalking. He learned more about her past and his admiration grew. More than that, the more he watched her, the more he wanted to stay. However, he knew that at some point he was going to have to leave. Polite company never overstays their welcome. Still, he was not looking forward to having to part from Arabella, or the matter of her brother. If he truly wanted to officially court her, he will have to set aside everything and eventually ask for his blessing. If it wasn't expected in such situations to be sure that the family approves of the match, he would have forgone it. But he didn't get as far as he did by ignoring social norms.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

"Your compliments flatter me, Mr. Strand." Arabella said. Thomas reveled in the attention, making polite conversation. It was easy to talk to his man he found and he felt every comfortable under the worshipful gaze. However time seemed to pass by easily and when Thomas noted the time again it was coming close to time for Thorben to leave. "I apologize, Mr. Strand, I seemed to have enjoyed your company overlong. Perhaps we could meet again another time?" Arabella patiently bid her suitor goodbye and followed all the standards that she should. Once the door was closed however John decided to speak his take.

"I don't like him, Miss Arabella. That one has desires in his eyes that no man should have. Thirsty eyes, that one." John noted, his voice scarred from the abuse of smoke and fire. He didn't speak overly much but when he did, Thomas knew to listen...if not always follow it. Disapproval was always something that John expressed more loudly than any other emotion.

Frowning, Arabella sighed, "I am aware, John. Just like all the suitors before him, he shall be ran off."

"I don't think he will be, Miss Arabella. That man has obsession in his bones. Obsession for you. You'll have a hard time having him chased away." John huffed before going back to his duties. "Make sure your brother takes care with that one."

Thomas moved back up to his room before redressing as himself. Rolling his shoulders he sighed. He would definitely have to meet the man as himself. But if like John had stated, the man was obsessed with Arabella, then he would be having a talk soon.

 

[Charlie_Death]

Thorben was enchanted by Arabella's charm as much as he was sure she was of his. The more he watched her, the more he wanted to keep watching her. Here in the parlor, out on the streets, the crowded rooms of a ball in full swing... Even the voices seem to still in her presence as if his own inner demons were also ensnared into his affections. He had not realized the time until she mentioned it. This was the part he dreaded the most about that meeting; when it ends. "There is no apology needed, Miss Lamb. Time, sadly, cannot last forever in our case. I shall certainly call on you again, your company is most refreshing." He gathered his belongings and gave her a courteous bow before he left.

He slowly walked down the steps and stopped on the sidewalk almost as if he was stuck. He didn't quite plan on where to go or do for the rest of the day. He could either go home, but it was still far too early. Instead he decided it was time to head to a club, get a nice drink, and mull over the events. Maybe even open up to Harold that he found the one woman he never knew he was waiting for. With a smile that was for once, genuine, he strolled to his favorite club. The harlots on the street could not distract him this night by enticing his blade.

He was dismayed when Harold hadn't been at the club yet, but it was a matter of time. He kept himself seated in the same shady corner, newspaper on the table. When you visit almost every day, the proprietors tend to expect your presence. His eyes caught the headlines about a letter received from the killer, claiming to be called "Jack the Ripper." Fraud. He was the real killer and he never wrote such letters. Perhaps it was time for him pen a complaint about this fool trying to claim credit for his work. But that would also risk exposing himself, now wouldn't it.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Thomas finished redressing quickly back into his male clothing. He had become talented at changing quickly from one person to the next. Tying his hair back into a tight ponytail with a leather hair tie, Thomas minimized the curls that he let bounce elegantly as Arabella. He had a mission now to do. He wanted to see Thorben again as himself. He had wronged the man before and if he couldn't let it go then he would definitely have a reason to refuse Arabella's suitors. Thomas followed behind Thorben into the club and hid in a shadow across from the man. He ordered only one drink, wanting to keep his wits share without standing out. Thorben was reading the paper when Thomas slid into the seat across from the man.

He didn't engage with Mr. Strand at first, instead watching the man's face intently. Thomas supposed that this was probably rude considering most ways of socitity but honestly, he didn't pay much atttention to what was proper for a man. He really only paid attention to what Arabella would need to thrive. Crossing his legs, Thomas had one knee over the other, tapping his toe to his shin in thought. "My sister likes you and my sister's chaperone had only the best things to say about you." He spoke plainly. Thomas didn't say anything about John's dislike since it was probably for the best not to call attention to his rather odd butler. Thomas tapped the bottle lightly on the side of the chair, "I will allow you to court my sister. She deserves happiness. But know this, Mr. Strand. I find one thing wrong with you and you're gone. Arabella doesn't need any more trouble." Thomas leaned back into the chair for a little while, watching Thorben's reaction until he caught the tail end of a conversation that he had to shut down.

There was one thing that he was well known for that the society could approve of...he was really protective of his twin. Although, proper society did not approve of his rather unorthodox methods. Thomas whipped up and around the chair before setting his half full drink on a nearby table. Thomas then grabbed the other patron by his clothing and lifted him. "Care to repeat what you were saying about my sister?" He shook the man when the wealthy gentleman refused to answer the request.

"I said, your sister is only trouble. She may be attractive but I'm sure she was a whore with your mother before you two got wealthy enough to matter." The wealthy man sniffed in outrage at his treatment.

Thomas smiled, "Well thank you for clearing that up." The curly haired pariah then slammed the man's face into the table before letting him go. It was only natural that the wealthy gentleman tried to fight back with his fists but Thomas had been fighting far longer and was far more nimble and faster. Thomas practically danced around his opponent, teasing and taunting him without words before finally laying enough punches that the other man fell back. Thomas followed him down, pulling out a hidden blade from one of his sleeves. "Now would you be a good gentleman and apologize about those dishonorable words about my family?"

The wealthy man stuttered out an apology before Thomas let him go. Haly grinned down at the man before walking over him. He ignored everyone as he walked out through the mild chaos that he had caused. It was so hard to be proper all the time. This was his only outlet. John had said that it was his way of yelling for help but Thomas disagreed. He didn't need help. There was nothing wrong with him. He was simply one man, doing the jobs of two people and supporting a household of women that needed to learn how to work in proper society once again. References and new identities were not cheap and even though his house had been, people expected great things from Arabella. Thomas just needed space to be himself. If that meant that he would have to do it as himself and gain his own reputation to divide against 'poor Arabella' then he would do it. Thomas let out a happy sigh. Winning a round of fisticuffs was so much more potent than any drug would ever be.

 

[Charlie_Death]

Thorben was immersed into his reading when he felt someone sit at his table. If it was someone he knew, or any polite company, they would have announced themselves or at least made some form of greeting before seating themselves. With a reserved sigh, he lowered his paper to see Thomas looking at him. He didn't say anything even though he can clearly see that he knows that he's there. Thorben felt his face twitch at the rudeness of his actions. As much as he was already infatuated with the man's sister, he couldn't overlook his lack of etiquette. The noise rose again, reminding him that this is the same man who had humiliated him in his drunkenness. He wanted nothing more to kill him, but he couldn't risk being parted from Arabella.

The whole time that Thomas talked, Thorben's expression didn't change, looking almost as if he ate something sour. It would be a lie if he wasn't glad that nothing but good words were spoken about him, but he often heard such things. However, he was more concerned with Thomas's suspicions. He knew he wouldn't get caught, he has been killing for years. He felt no fear that he would be found out, nor that anything untoward would be discovered at some point by Thomas, or anyone else.

"If you fear your sister's honor, I will do her no such injustice." No sooner had he spoke those words had he picked up unsavory words that ought not be spoken in polite company. Before he could stand, Thomas was already up and confronting the culprit. Not wanting any of Thomas's attention to bleed onto him and result in his image dropping, he remained seated. He watched as he fought him, unashamed to gift the man a few bruises. He has seen such fighting before in the streets in poorer districts and in boxing matches. Although he had to admit that his face was rather undamaged if he did participate in boxing. Still, the movements were recognizable from a number of fighters, normally one who has had a good deal of training, which couldn't be said about the man that insulted Arabella.

Once the fight was over, Thorben waited until Thomas had left the scene before following, taking a final glance at the man on the floor. He could easily tear the man apart for his words and he looked forward to it. However, it could lead back to Thomas if he shown up dead. Moronic buffoon. When Thorben caught up to Thomas he spoke in a low voice keeping his eyes in another direction, as if he wasn't speaking to Thomas.

"Pardon me for speaking my mind, but you're a damn fool. Fighting in public will only draw unwanted attention. Still..." He glanced at him and stepped into the shadows that crept out of an alley. "I respect you for defending Miss Lamb's honor." Thorben tipped his hat in Thomas's direction saying "Good day" before taking his leave. He didn't want to remain in the area long enough for people to realize he was conversing with a man that started a fight in the middle of a club.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Thomas grinned when he heard Thorben speak next to him. The raven haired man hummed, "I am aware of my status as a fool. It is something that I can live with. Doing nothing while pigs like that go unpunished is something I've found that I don't care for." Thomas watched the man go with a bow in his direction, "Good day, Mr. Strand. You should speak your mind more often." Thomas walked off with only one last glance to the shadows. The gentleman caller Arabella had was interesting. If only he was someone who Thomas knew he could trust then he really would let the man have Arabella and himself. It seemed however Mr. Strand found Thomas annoying as himself. The younger man didn't really feel threatened like he had when he was blind drunk and had vomited upon the other man but it was close. Just once he wanted someone that he could pester affectionately. Lifting his head back to look at the sky, he mused that he was probably meant to be alone. At least he knew, that while Thorben wasn't meant to be, he would be interesting.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Arabella allowed Thorben to see her twice or even sometimes three times a week. They usually sat in the parlor, chatting about things that were small but interesting. Once, Thorben even took her to the park for a stroll! Thomas hadn't minded the stroll and even though he got a little excited instead of his icy Arabella self, Thorben hadn't minded. Thomas worked hard in those weeks two. He felt energized by the attention he was getting as Arabella and pulled at least ten more girls from the streets into his unconvential school. That did however mean that he was working as Arabella twice as hard as well. It was amazing to him to see how much money that he could make as Arabella vs. Thomas the writer. Don't get him wrong, his writing made a good chunk of change, especially since the pen name was one that was a current mild sensation but he made far more as mere Arabella escorting the rich.

However, he should have seen that all this positive motion would come to an end. In fact, it came to a screeching halt. Arabella had been escorting a young lady around one of her first balls. It was one of the larger ones, known for it's large supply of alcohol and wine. Arabella was only supposed to watch the young lady until her aunt could make it to the ball a few hours later. The job went without a hitch, however...the ball did not. Thomas still couldn't remember how it had happened. Arabella had been working the ladies around for references and such...subtly when a gentleman asked her to dance. After that dance, Arabella had been led to the side of the room and exchanged for another dance partner. It was there on the far side of the room that Arabella had met another gentleman. This gentleman was no gentleman. He grabbed Thomas's wrist, dragging Arabella into an isolated part of the house before cornering her. He had wanted to do unspeakable things to Arabella and so Thomas had fought back. Luckily Thomas had been saved by the man's wife who had come looking.

Everyone had secrets. This cheating scum was also an abusive ass to his wife and while the couple were arguing, Thomas slipped out of the room and out of the ball. Hailing a hackey had been easy and Thomas found himself limping back to his home with only minor aches when he remembered he had the shittiest luck. There he saw his suitor...well Arabella's suitor, walking down the sidewalk. Thomas didn't think about the time or even bother to think about why the man would be out at this time. Instead, Arabella froze like a deer when Mr. Strand saw her. Of course there was worry about the man. Mr. Strand came over to her and started to fuss a little.

"I apologize for my unseemly appearance, Mr. Strand. I would ask that we please not talk about it." Arabella rubbed her blackened wrist and winced at the feeling of a black eye. It didn't help that the attacker had ripped a bit of the sleeve off of the dress. Thomas was burning it when he got home. There was nothing he hated more than when he couldn't fight back. When he was helpless as Arabella. Turning his blue eyes to Mr.Strand, Thomas let out a soft sigh. "Would you please accompany me to my home? I believe I might need a bit of help with the stairs." Arabella held out her hand for Thorben, allowing the man to take her home.

John had taken over from where Thorben had left. John helped Arabella up and stairs and gotten Thomas changed back to his own clothing. Letting Thorben in would have been improper and Thomas was glad for it as he licked his wounds. He only wished he could get back at the bastard without hurting the wife. She had helped him when she had come looking for that abusive ass. No doubt she had known her husband would be on the prowl and tried to save whoever he found. Thomas threw the dress in the fire and pondered about where to hide pockets for knives. No one was ever going to make him or Arabella a victim ever again.

 

[Charlie_Death]

Thorben had reached a level of happiness he never knew was possible, if it truly was happiness he felt. He didn't know what else to call what Arabella done to him. His mind was often preoccupied with when would be the next he could see her, his heart had some palpitations and it was just... strange. For someone used to feeling nothing but anger and apathy, it was bizarre. He began to anticipate their chaperoned meetings. Going out on a stroll didn't warrant such supervision as it was open in the public and was the only time he got to spend with her alone, enjoying the sunlight. He felt like a real suitor at that point, rather than someone who is talking to someone he fancies.

However with as happy as she makes him, it can only push back his needs for so long. Always after he left her, his demons would crawl out of whatever hole they hid in while in her presence. They demanded he get back to his work, that he still needs to maim and murder. Financially he was fine, no one warranted his blade. He had even let the gentleman from a few weeks prior off the hook, seeing that he still suffered greatly from the bruises delivered by Thomas. He would have to send him a letter of approval for his fighting skills.

As the urge continued to grow, Thorben began strolling the streets once more. He had noticed that there were fewer prostitutes out and about lately, possibly out of fear of meeting their ends at the hands of the Ripper. He couldn't know that there was another trying to clean the filth in a more humane way. On this night he had plans to free himself of his demons. He had his apron tucked away in an alley not too far, blades safely tucked side his jacket, second pair of gloves and an ache to kill. All that he missed was his victim. A hackney dropped off a lady not too far from him and he didn't pay her much attention, at least not until he noticed who it was. Forgetting about the hunt, he rushed to her gently taking her hand and resting a supportive arm across her back. He was far too close to be appropriate but the woman was injured! Now was a time when the idiosyncrasies of polite society can be overlooked.

"Miss Lamb! What happened? Has someone accosted you?" Thorben was genuinely concerned for her health and wellbeing. However, seeing her in such a state with even her face bruised. For once, he had to agree with the voices that spoke up in the back of his mind. Tonight was not a night to slay some diseased whore, but a night to hunt and slay someone much more vile than a disease spreader.

"As you wish, my lady," Thorben responded when he was asked not to discuss the matter of her injuries. Keeping to his gentlemanly nature, he continued to support her the rest of the way to her home and took his time with the stairs. He had imagined that he would one day be able to hold her close enough in his arms, but not this way. Her perfume was mixed with that of her assaulter. The more he helped her up the stairs the more his blood boiled. He wanted to remain by her side but respected both her wishes and that of John. "I wish you a speedy recovery." He gave a short bow to Arabella and a harsh look at John that said that he better protect her or else. Once the door was shut behind him, he nearly broke out into a run down the stairs. he had to keep himself calm, not draw attention, no matter how much he wanted to end the man's life.

First matters was first, Thorben had to retrieve his hidden apron. folding it tight, he was able to hide it in his coat giving him the appearance that he put on a little extra weight, but not enough to grab suspicion. He flagged down a hackney, paying him handsomely to take him to every ball in the area, waiting until he was to be sent off. The first two he had no such luck in finding the man that had injured Arabella. As his sole interest outside of murder, he knew she was accompanying someone at a ball within the area, but could not recall the exact location. By the time they reached the third, and much larger ball, his luck changed. He overheard some women discussing an 'incident' where a young lady had left with some injuries. After a few inquiries he was positive it was Arabella Lamb that was injured. He sent the hackney off and began to skulk about the shadows until he caught sight of the man. He was the only one with a woman who looked like she didn't want to be here, hiding a bruise under her gloved hand.

Being a master of charm, Thorben picked up two glasses of champagne and walked over, a smile that looked so genuine that it could have fooled anyone. He handed a glass to his mark the moment he finished the one in his hand already. "Can't let this party end so soon." Thorben chuckled before leaning close enough. "Let's go where we can discuss things that are impolite in the company of women. I noticed quite the lovely bird flutter on by towards the back." Thorben gave the man a wink and with those words, or perhaps it was already his drunkenness, he seemed to have convinced the man to follow him. They joked and laughed as they made their way towards an exit to the grounds. "Wait here, I will see if she is still alone."

Thorben rushed around the corner, having left his barely touched glass in the hand of the man that had injured his Arabella. He knew this area well, both above and below. He found one of the entrances to the newly built sewers. They may have been constructed when he was very young, but were a godsend in some of his work. He pried open one of the access holes and made his way back, ignoring the odor that filled the air. With a smile and wave he brought the guy over who began to grow suspicious as they were heading further from the party. when the odor of the sewer entrance hit him, the man spun around only to be met by Thorben giving him a harsh shove into the entrance.

Thorben followed, closing it off behind him and watched the man sputter and vomit at the smell of the sewage. The only light was that that flowed from the gas lamps above the entrance. Slipping into the apron to get as little blood on him, although his pants are ruined from the sewage, Thorben walked around the man, eyes already adjusting to the darkness. He had spent considerable time learning these tunnels in his youth and often used them if he felt that he was going to be cornered. In fact, he purposely bought a house right by a sewer entrance for just such an occasion. It may not have been the most elegant of choices but it was practical.

Once his eyes adjusted, he pulled the man to his feet and slammed his head into the brick walls. He pulled his head back and twisted his arm so he could speak in his ear. "You made the mistake of harming a refined lady this night. And not just any lady, but my lady." He threw him on the ground and pulled out his blade, sinking it into the man's kidney when he tried to get back to his feet. He covered his mouth when he howled in pain and continued to stab him from behind. Grasping him by the throat he pulled him to his feet and slammed him into the wall beneath their only source of light.

"W-Who are you?" The man coughed, blood spraying onto his lips. He looked Thorben up and down noticing the apron he wore. "You're..."

"That's right. Say it. Say my name." Thorben grinned wide. He has been in the papers for awhile, the only description that they could find was that an apron had been involved. He did miss that apron he failed to retrieve, but he learned his lesson. But since then he wasn't the Whitechapel Murderer but then became Leather Apron. However with more recent papers he was known as...

"Jack the Ripper..." The man muttered more out of fear, realizing just who it was he was talking to. Thorben threw his hand up in the air as if expecting a symphony to announce his correctness.

"Correct! And you made the fatal mistake of touching my woman." He plunged his blade into the man's heart, watching the light in his eyes fade in the dim light. Once he was dead he was left with the clean up. he didn't want this man to be discovered as one of his victims. No, he had to be separate. He was going to be famous if the papers kept going on the way they did, and this wretch wasn't going to piggy back on that fame. He cut off his head and threw it into an alley way before dragging the rest of the body through the sewers towards the Thane where he dumped the body. It will forever be a mystery where his body was, but his death had to be known. By the time he was finished cleaning up, the sun was beginning to rise so Thorben rushed home and began to thoroughly clean himself and his clothing. No one would ever touch Arabella again.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

It had taken a few days before Thomas felt himself interested in going outside his home again. The bruise on his face had faded to a sickly yellowish tint that would be easy to hide with make-up. However, Thomas didn't wish to be Arabella so soon. He knew he was hiding, practicing his knife throwing and sewing hidden compartments in all of his dresses. What had pushed him to leave his home had been a news story. John had mentioned it in passing, one morning at breakfast. It wasn't unusual that Thomas would forgo reading the paper but John tended to read it rather religiously. It was one morning that John mentioned about a rather gruesome murder and when Thomas heard the name of the victim...he decided that it was time to come out of hiding. Realistically it could have been anyone who murdered the man and left the head for some poor person to find but Thomas wasn't above imagining Arabella's suitor as an avenging angel of sorts. So perhaps that had been why he found himself at the club again even though it was rather stupid of him to be out.

Thomas had dressed well, in one of his few male attire that was fashionable. It was a brown waistcoat and suit, roughly the same color as leather with a stylish top hat to match. It wasn't common that he dressed so nicely and so, wearing the outfit suited him as a disgust of sorts. Thomas sat himself in a shadowy corner, watching the patrons come and go while he jotted down notes for work. He made notes of things that Arabella would need to know and things that would be good writing in his books. That is until the object of his true interest came inside the club. Thomas huffed amused as he watched the man. Was he really the avenging angel that Thomas thought? It was a nice fantasy but he imagined that's all it was. Leaning his hand into his fist, he jotted down more notes before hiding away the papers. He had caught his glimpse of the man. That was all he really needed to see.

Thomas leaned back, smiling to himself as he felt the texture of his women's drawers against his skin. Yes, he supposed he was a deviant for enjoying the texture of women's undergarments better than men's. He oftentimes wore the corset as well, adjusting the fit to just hold him instead of pushing his fatty chest into a semblance of cleavage. Standing up, he walked out of the club after watching Mr. Strand for a while. He supposed it was the first time in a long while he did something somewhat intelligent. Of course it would have been wiser to hide in his home or at least hide his bruised eye better. He looked back at the club with a sigh. He supposed it was about time he had Arabella cut Mr. Strand. It was getting too dangerous. Thomas had to admit...he was getting attached. That was rather stupid of him.

Thomas's musings were stopped when he heard footsteps behind him. He sighed, turning his head to look back. "It isn't wise to follow someone in the dark. They might think of you as a petty thief or something of the like." He hummed as he continued walking. This also wasn't wise. He supposed that he didn't make many of those decisions anymore. He wondered if this was what John meant when he said Thomas used violence as a scream for help. Sighing, he pulled a turned his wrists to flick out the two knives hidden in his sleeves. "I suppose you should know, I am armed."

 

[Charlie_Death]

Thorben spent the past days relaxing and feeling his innermost demons be satisfied with the brutal sacrifice he offered in the sewers. He had finally scrubbed the odor out of his clothing. Of course, he kept up on the paper, reading the articles, happy that no one has yet found the body. He doubted they would, with out long they took to find the head, the Thames river had to have washed the body to the English Channel by now. It tickled him that the remains may wash up in France, but he knew that it would have been consumed by ocean life by then. He wanted to meet Arabella, but he didn't want to see the marks left, not until she fully recovered. He didn't know how he would react to it, but he knew he didn't want anyone else near her. Instead he had sent a card or two wishing the best for her health. It was high time that he tried to get on her brother's good side. It may be premature for discussions of engagement, but he was sure that her brother would agree to allow her to be under his care and protection. After all, a husband has a duty to protect his wife, does he not?

Thorben tucked a manual into his inner pocket with his blade before heading out to the club. He wanted to discuss his plans with McKinley before he went through with everything. After all, he was the closest thing to family he could have, even if his wife insisted that something was 'off' about him. He walked into the club and approached his friend with a smile that he often wore when he had to be pleasant. However, when he had greeted the group of men he caught a glimpse of someone hiding in his preferred shadowy corner. At first he didn't recognize the man, but when he stood up, he realized it was Thomas. It was strange to see him look decent. Perhaps there was hope after all.

"Jaysus! What's got you so distracted?" Harold gave his old friend a shove to snap him back to the conversation. He had watched him keep taking glances in a corner that was now empty.

"Don't touch me." He pat his friend's hand with no real malice. "I believe that man that just left was the brother of Miss Lamb." Before Harold could get any comment in, Thorben turned towards the door. "I do believe that it is time that I ask for her brother's blessing." At those words he left, leaving his acquaintences stunned at what he said. For as long as they knew he held no interests towards anyone, and suddenly they had seen him be distracted and focused on a particular lady. To some, it seems a bit hasty to want to arrange a marriage but to Harold McKinley, it couldn't have come sooner. He didn't want to have to keep watching someone enjoy the bachelor's life when he had to return home to a wife and children.

Thorben headed out of the club and began to follow Thomas. He didn't know how to approach him, if he did recognize him in the club or what he was going to say. One does not simply ask for the brother of his love's blessings on the street. He didn't mind being addressed as a thief, after all, he was one. At the mention of being armed, he finally spoke up. "As am I, Mr. Haly." Thorben spoke flatly as he took large enough steps to catch up to him. He knew his voice by now, although they met only a few times. He placed a hand on his arm and squeezed it as a warning. "These are dangerous times we live in with a killer on the loose." He pulled away and took a step ahead, turning to face him. There was just enough light from a street lamp to see that there was a faint bruise under his eye. Strange that it is the same eye as Arabella, but not so strange if he keeps getting into fights. "There is something I must discuss with you that is a most urgent and private matter." He waved at a passing hackney to stop. "May we discuss it at my home? I would not want your sister to hear what has to be said."

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Thomas raised an eyebrow at Mr. Strand, flicking his knives back into their hiding spot inside his sleeves once more. It was interesting that Arabella's suitor had followed him out. No one paid Thomas much attention when he wasn't causing a good deal of trouble. Thomas had a feeling he knew what this conversation was going to be about. He tightened his muscles in anticipation while sliding into the hackney. Once seated he watched Thorben slide into the cab himself and shut the door. Thomas wasn't exactly sure how it was that he was going to let the man down. Especially since he had let him far closer and let the courtship go on for longer than he should have. It was hard to rebuff someone who genuinely was interesting and on top of that had strong feelings for Arabella. The problem was however, that the man had no feelings for Thomas. There was no way he was going to give up himself to live just as Arabella. He needed to be Thomas. He needed to blow off steam by fighting with the rich and senseless. He could give up the fighting he supposed if only someone would care enough about him. He was pathetic really.

"Mr. Strand." Thomas finally spoke, dusting off his top hat while he thought. "If this is what I think it is about then we do indeed need to talk." He looked out the cabby window once more and let silence reign. It wasn't long before they arrived at Mr. Strand's home. Thomas allowed his coat and hat to be taken before seating himself in the study where Thorben requested it. He relaxed back into his seat, watching Thorben for a while before putting the man out of his misery.

Sitting across from Mr. Strand, Thomas stared into the man's eyes with his bewitching blue. "The answer is no." He said calmly before raising a hand at Mr. Strand's look. "It is nothing to do with your person, Mr. Strand and everything to do with my family. I'm not sure the rumors you have heard about us but just as I'm sure you do....we have secrets." Thomas raised an eyebrow, "It shouldn't be a surprise. No man with your lack of rumors is ever as clean as he seems. Besides that it is also suspect that my sister's attacker was murdered right after it happened. Not to say you have anything to do with it for sure but it is suspect."

Thomas turned his gaze away before continuing, "I am not a cruel man however so I will leave you with this. If you really want Arabella. If you truly and deeply desire her then learn about us. Yes, us. Twins are two halves of a whole. We share almost everything in our lives, from our house to our personal lives." He hummed before laughing at Thorben's face, "We don't commit incest. We have no interest in each other. We just share interests in other areas." Thomas stood up before starting to walk out. "It is the way it is, Mr. Strand. We are two halves of one whole. If you do not like it then leave us be but you are the closest I have ever allowed anyone." He sighed while putting on his coat and hat, "I know you probably will never forgive me for my first impression and that I wholeheartedly understand."

 

[Charlie_Death]

Thorben didn't speak much when they boarded their ride, he wanted their conversation to only be discussed between them and no one else. He didn't want someone to overhear all that had to be said. It seemed that the main reason he wanted to talk to Thomas was on both of their minds, which should make things easier.

When they arrived at his home, he took Thomas's hat and coat, hanging them up before directing him to his study. He had left his coat in the entrance but tucked the book into his back pocket before meeting Thomas in the study. Unlike Thomas and Arabella, he had no servants. He didn't want to lose his privacy nor have someone being nosey. He couldn't afford to get caught by help. He sat at his desk and watched the other man, trying to determine where to start. There was more than just proposals that needed to be said. However he was not expecting such a sudden rejection. He wanted to grab the man by the collar and demand that he change his mind. He needed Arabella in his life. Only she was able to offer some form of sanity in his mad world. However, the man's explanation only added little comfort.

He was the farthest thing from happy when he heard that he was suspected of murder. He didn't like that he slipped up but he ran over the murder in his head. His reputation was golden, he fit into society perfectly where the only rumors was on his past and wealth, nothing related to violence. The murder was out of sight and no one found the body. There was no witnesses or evidence that would tie him to it, anything would be circumstantial. So that meant, Thomas only thinks that because of who the victim was. It is still considered rumor that he is courting Miss Lamb, no one has a definite answer quite yet. After thinking it through, he was confident that even though he was suspected, that it wasn't the authorities that thought so and that he could easily get away with it. Besides, he wouldn't be sent to the mad house for a single murder. The method was different from when he burgled those that offended him or from the Ripper victims. There would be no connection to his finer works. All this did was instill a sense of respect for Thomas. It had to be dangerous to tell a man he suspected of murder, especially to one where the body is yet to be found.

When he saw that Thomas was getting to leave, he stood up. "Wait." Thorben walked to the bookcase that lined the wall behind his desk and removed a few of the books. He pushed back a false panel and pulled out a single article of clothing. He rarely kept trophies, but this killing was special. It was over a woman after all. He began to speak as he was putting everything back into it's place carefully, back still turned to Thomas. He knew he was there because he did not hear the door open, it was a rather noisy door that needed oil on its hinges. "There is something I must confess to you, that is only mildly unrelated to your sister. I could not find myself to forgive you for what you had done. In fact, I had planned to kill you." He turned around, face blank and emotionless as he walked over. "However, I have come to respect you, albeit it was not an easy road to come to. I had first encountered your sister the day I had planned to take your life. Really, you have her to thank for you still breathing." He stepped in front of the door and locked it. "Please don't be frightened of me, just hear me out." He could see how tense the man became, after all, it would unsettle anyone to hear that they were going to be murdered.

"My thoughts on you that night we first met was that the world was going to be better off without such a drunk scoundrel. You seemed to be violent, unhinged and confrontational while lacking all control. I feared that you were a danger to society. After all, you may have been the killer in the streets. You after all, proclaimed how much you hated the wealthy and there have been a number of murders where the wealthy have been slain in their own homes. I couldn't risk you slipping away from the authorities so I thought it fit to clean the streets myself. I had lived on those same streets as a boy, abandoned and knew that sometimes the criminal gets away with his crime." It was all a lie, but he had learned to lie for so long, he doubted the man could pick up on it. "As for the man that assaulted your sister..." He held up the bloodied tie, stiffened in it's neat fold. "I murdered him. This is the only thing that will tie me to his death." He held it out to him, staring Thomas in the eyes. "I may have met your sister in such bizarre circumstances but what I feel... I cannot help. I feel complete with her around. I wanted to be at her side and after her assault, I want to protect her in any way I can, even if I risk imprisonment. We live in such a mad world these days, no woman is safe. You, at least understand that. We both want nothing more than her safety. It is your protectiveness of Miss Lamb, your defense of her honor at the expense of your own good name, that aided me in respecting you. I have severely misjudged you when we met, something that I deeply, from the depth of my heart, regret. I hope you can find it in your heart to come to forgive me for my short sightedness and my unorthodox ways."

He looked away and pulled the book from his back pocket. It was a paperbound manuscript, hand written. 'The Art of Boxing' by Daniel Mendoza. "I had wanted to give you this, it wasn't easy to come by. I had hoped you would appreciate it, as a gift from a potential extension of your family. The man was a renowned boxer, back when it became illegal. He was poor and rose to wealth with his skill in fighting. This is one of the first, if not the original manuscript he had published on boxing. Given your skill in a fight, I thought you would appreciate it." He took a deep breath and waited for the man to digest all that he said. If all else fails, he might just have to kill him, but he really didn't want to do that, he was coming around to appreciate his sense of honor and daring for suspecting him of a murder most gruesome.